Photographs
by iSaMs
Summary: Photographs are frozen perished memories. Every immortalized piece is a fragment of a person's life, held captive by the edges of fragile paper. Likewise, every hurtful memory are also frozen, confined in the depths of your mind, in which time is often a cruel friend– if it can't heal, if it can't make you forget, it could still be merciful enough to make you used to the pain.
1. The Apertural Falsehoods

**Photographs  
**~AN APH FANFICTION~

**Warnings:** M for later chapters, Human AU, Male Slash,  
Inappropriate themes and languages, Character Death  
(non-suicide) Don't Like? Don't Read!, F&F, R&R  
**Pairings:** USUK Primarily, A little FrUK, SpUK  
Spamano, SpaBel (Tentative in later chapters)

I don't own APH whatsoever.

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**Chapter 1: The Apertural Falsehoods**

(_In Medias Res_)

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-o**0**o-

My love, even if you hurt me a million times, I'd still forgive you over and over again.  
Just come back to me, wrap your arms around me… let me feel your warmth once more.  
I'll give up everything to see you, hold you, turn back time and stop it from ticking.  
That way you'll never have to leave.

And then you can promise me…

to never make me feel this kind of pain ever again.

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_The half-lighted dusk was entirely still. A young man was walking fast and broke into a dangerous run across a thoroughfare. Loud beeps were heard and the unexpected honks of the speeding vehicles were deafening but none of those bore a single decibel of sound into his ears. When he had reached the other side of the road, he staggered and almost choked catching up his own breath._

_The DSLR camera he carried seemed to have been smashed on hard, concrete pavement and appears to have an engraved, deep scratch on its expensive wide-angle lens. Its liquid crystal display panel bled out into an ugly black colour. Although these costly investments were ruined and shattered, it wasn't that kind of damage that had put him in utter shock._

_Yes, he was in complete, disturbing shock. He didn't think it will turn out this way. It's not supposed to be like this. The way that things concluded allowed deep dejection to slash a gaping wound to his chest. The pain kept reaching his mind and ripping out what's left of his scarce sanity._

_Trembling hands dug into his four pant pockets. He searched for a handkerchief but unfortunately, there was none. All he can do now is to raise his scarf into his half-closed mouth, biting it very hard to restrain an impending scream. He felt like he was about to explode but even tears were held back by his extreme disbelief on what had happened._

'_No way. It isn't supposed to be like this.'_

_He sat down on a metal park bench near a flickering street light._

_By then tears started to stream down his cold, numb face._

_The night turned into a freezing rage, seeping through every inch of his skin. It felt like his cardigan wasn't enough. He wasn't sure if the cold was from the evening air or just from his centre, deep within. Trembling hands were clutching on the too small side pockets of the clothing. There was something that felt like thick paper inside. He pulled it out._

_It was a photograph. Two people smiling. Happy._

'_Oh and I will take photographs of us together, so you won't forget. That is, if I'll die this day.'_

_A voice kept on going and going, screaming regret in every whispered word._

_...**  
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_...**  
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"What do ya think you will do if today is the last day you'll ever live?" A youthful man with crisp deep blue irises asked his companion. Both were slumped, slouching on hard concrete of what seemed a plain, concrete rooftop. It was some typical rooftop with some potted plants that are happily green for the moment against the sunshine glow. Adjacent to the building's edge was a plain white bed sheet gently swaying in the soft blown breeze.

"I don't know, Al. Maybe sulk myself into oblivion? It's my last day alive. Anything I do on that day won't matter anyway." The smaller framed man replied almost dryly, scratching a trail of sweat on his left cheek then searching for his phone somewhere in the pockets of his torn slim-fit denim trousers.

The other male chortled out almost immediately with great vigour and enthusiasm. "Eh? Is that it? If this was going to be my last day, I would eat all the ice cream that I could, with all the flavors I want and play video games all day! That way, I'll die very happy." He faced directly the other one who was busy tapping on his phone to even pay attention.

"Right. Something _very_ interesting to do before perishing." Seeing his young companion's fervent and exuberant mood through the corner of his eye, he nonetheless still smiled and stared back for a bit of a charming, snarky comment to express a little bit of interest even though he never really meant to. Then, he focused back on tapping SMS.

"Of course, I would only do those things with you... Only with you." Blue eyes gazed towards the horizon of the same blue skies.

It was mid-afternoon, a Saturday in the middle of summer and the weather was nothing but unpredictable. Yesterday it was muggy and rainy but today, the temperature that felt like almost borderline thirty still threatened to go up and tip off the record charts. Both men were dressed lightly, lounging at the roof of the seven-storey apartment block airing out their sweating bodies and golden and damp hairlines. Both squinted their eyes and creased their eyebrows together because of the terrible glare the almost pristinely white concrete reflects.

After correcting a few mis-tapped words on his SMS, the other replied almost with an air of indifference. "Oh well, if that's the case then I will take photographs of us together… so you won't forget. Well... That's what I want, if I'll die this day."

He just uttered those words. Something that he thought the other might want to hear.

The azure-eyed one stood up and nonetheless said aloud. "Hey Arthur, let's go down and have ice cream. I'mma really overheating right now, my head's killing me."

Arthur still continued to stare at his phone waiting for his message to be sent. He curiously arched both of his fair-haired but prominent and handsomely-drawn eyebrows, seeming to know that his companion said something but couldn't seem to know the exact, specific words.

"Alfred, what… come again?" He stared up, flashing those lush green eyes that one reminds of the bloom of summer foliage, though mixed with a slight ash colour and amber strings gathered towards the centre of a deep well of pitch darkness.

"I said, we should head down and grab something cold to eat…" he replied in gentle crispness with a voice that seem to have a pert I-am-so-loud-why-didn't-you-hear-me kind of tone. After a short pause in words and firm flicks of gesticulations, he added "…Like ice cream or something."

Arthur stood up from the concrete whatnot where he was slouching before. His camera case and satchel that contained at least two spare lenses made a slight, soft smack as it collided with the side of his buttock. He dusted off some supposed to be fine sand on his behind. However, the piece of clothing didn't have any of the sort sticking on it. The gesture was just somewhat more like his simple force of habit.

"OK, that sounds good." He again kept his phone on his pocket and flashed a slight smile towards the taller but younger guy.

Alfred quickly picked up his own navy blue and white satchel which was beside Arthur a while ago and carefully put it across and over his shoulder.

Both men sauntered nonchalantly to the rooftop door and lazily stepped down the stairs. Alfred was frantically fanning himself with his left hand. He was sweating profusely so he finally pulled out a pristine white handkerchief which has an elegant, loopy hand-embroidered "A. Kirkland" and a small pink and green rose on its one corner.

Arthur noticed it and quickly snarled up a comment.

"Alfred… I believe THAT is mine." He crossed his arms in utter displeasure. One thing that he dreadfully hates is other people using his personal effects without asking permission first.

Al in return, chuckled amusingly "Return first the hankie I lent you. Then, I will return this to you."

"Lent me?" the slightly shorter young man raised one glaring eyebrow at his companion. "You gave that to me, you git."

The rebuked one frowned cutely at the other and pouted his masculine lips playfully.

Arthur was actually blown blasé at the other's ever-recurring display of childish mock-sulking to even care.

"Stop misplacing your bloody handkerchiefs so that you'll never have to take mine for yourself!" He said with a tone of voice almost abrasive. He might just let it drop and go if this was the first time Al has ever taken a hanky out of his accessory drawer. However, since they moved in together, day after day was the guy's lack of personal organization had him invading into Arthur's drawers in search and thieving for either some facecloth, ties… even socks!

Alfred pulled off a what-was-that expression across his face with a concerned smile for his dear love. Arthur was now stomping off several down-steps directly in front of him. Something was obviously bothering him, Al could clearly tell. He truly knew the fact that Arthur wasn't the expressive type. He was most of the time, bad-tempered- he'd rather be passive-aggressive than to talk about what he feels. That he was the kind of guy prone to misplaced emotions. Be that as it may, he still walked up to him and gently intertwined his hand into Arthur's own.

Arthur paused at the gesture and Alfred squeezed his hand and affectionately asked. "Is there something wrong? Are you okay?"

Green eyes slowly rolled and locked directly into the icy blue irises. The other hand gripped on the satchel's dark red and green-striped strap. Both of the young men were stalled between the fourth and third floors. There aren't people at the stairs as they have used the spare staircase whose main function was to serve as one of the emergency exits. The former smiled sweetly and took a few steps up to meet the latter's face.

"Everything's okay. You don't have to worry about anything, Al." He said with a soft, nonetheless endearing countenance.

Alfred warmly hugged his partner and kissed his forehead through stray golden locks that are a bit brighter than his own. He sighed long and hard. He gave his dearly loved a piercingly reassuring back rub and once more, firmly clasped his fingers through Arthur's hand. Al had always thought they were and always been a perfect fit.

"If there's anything, Art-" He blinked his eyes hard... "Remember that you can always tell me-"…and pursed his lips. "Everything, Arthur… You can tell me _everything_."

Those green eyes focused and defocused through Alfred's arm and the iron stair railings. The owner of those captivatingly stunning eyes has his cheek cosily snuggled into his lover's navy blue satchel band and sweat-damp shirt, relishing his masculine scent that reminded him of the quiet nights they spent making love. Two flushed and slick bodies caught up in dissolute passion that both felt right and wrong.

Arthur was always sure that he loved Al. There was no doubt of it. But the thing he wasn't sure of was himself. He had and always has been in nothing but crappy relationships. All his past relationships were traumatic and ended bitterly. He couldn't count how many people had agreed to have a relationship with him just because they wanted to either just fuck him or be fucked. Some just have been there to use him, kiss his arse (literally and metaphorically) for their own advantage.

He was not entirely innocent too. There were also countless individuals that he chased down and used for his own gain. He experienced an obsessing, unrequited love once or twice, and he did everything to push them down, to have them surrender and concede themselves into utter lust, forgetting their self-control, self-respect and shame. But in the morning, Arthur often wakes up hung-over and with nothing but himself.

The way Al had loved him, was entirely different. It was a new feeling… like living in a different world and living in someone else's shoes. Alfred was this child-like, bubbly person without tact who cared like he was the only person in the world to him. Al never gave up when he pushed him away countless times before. When he closed doors, Al blows up the windows. Al was always there, shouting his existence. He was a nuisance, a terribly endearing and arrogant nuisance. It wasn't in likelihood to anything he had experienced before. And honestly, he was _tired_ of it…_ tired of him._

_When you start feeling tired…  
Isn't it a sign that the relationship is bound to end?_

"I love ya." Alfred tenderly said almost mumbling.

Arthur pulled himself away gently and a smile was painted across his face. "I love you too."

'_Everything's okay.' _The previous words Arthur had said bounced back and forth inside his own mind.

_I have lied to you, Alfred... Right now, I am lying to you.  
And I am terribly sorry._

"Let's get goin'? Ice cream's waitin' downstairs!" The flaxen-haired one was back into enthusiasm to finally cool down his throbbing hot weather headache.

"Of course." Arthur flatted out with a kind smile.

He hated it. He wants to say what's wrong but he was seemed to be afraid of something he wasn't exactly sure what. It lies between the fear of hurting someone who was nothing but kind to him and the fear of making a mistake of letting him go. It puts a sharp pang into his heart to see Alfred sad; on the other hand, things couldn't go half-hearted like this. This quandary is ironic in itself, so contradictory. He doesn't want to hurt Al, but he wouldn't want to be hurt as well. He felt smothered by Al, yet he didn't want to be alone.. But still, he wanted to let him go… to break up with him.

_For good._

Bloody hell he knows how to live both half-alive and half-dead. But if Al would ever live like that because of his selfish decisions, he would not know what his grave guilt would do to himself. He loved Al so much, the exact same way that Al loves him... and maybe more, if that was even half as possible.

Both of them reached the bottom by mere minutes. Al, still fondly holding Arthur's hand, opened the heavy utility door, using his other hand and elbow, with ease. Finally, they were now standing in the small ground lobby of the flat building. There aren't quite many people walking across the hall that day. It was rather silent and almost empty with the exception of muffled, dull automobile broom-ing and honking. Al squeezed Arthur's hand again and drawn him closer, whispering close to his ear.

"Do ya have plans for tonight?" He said crisply with some hint of seriousness.

Arthur looked up with a light sense of surprise. "Why?"

"I have something that I've been meaning to say to you." Al replied straight and sombrely that made Arthur worry a little bit. "We have 'ta talk about things… about something."

"Is it quite serious?" Arthur was meaning to know because he distantly somehow doesn't feel somewhat good about what Al was going to say.

"It is about my b-" In the middle of Al's response, Arthur's phone rang and vibrated inside his ass pocket. He jolted and quickly squirmed away from his companion almost immediately when he heard the first note of his incoming call ringtone. He put his phone in his ear, turned his polo shirt-clad body away from Al and responded to the call.

"Yes, this is Arthur Kirkland, speaking." He said, his fingers playing with the zipper of his camera case.

Alfred could only hear an almost inaudible, husky, electronic murmur that came out of other's mobile phone. He just stared intently at Arthur's bobbing head and firm but slender back. His lips slightly twitched at its corners, sensing this intense fondness in his chest that he always felt looking at his godly love. Because of the very fondness, he felt a piercing ache forming a constricting cage that crushing his heart to bleed out. Every time he looked at Arthur, he felt this way.

_He looked so damn divine, fearless. Everyone's sayin' that. What they don't know is what I know… that at many times, Arthur Kirkland is nothin' but fragile._

"Yes, I understand. I'll be there on time." With that he ended the call and put his phone away.

Al shallowly blinked as his partner walked again close to him and elbowed him on the side slightly.

"Let's get going. I have work to do at 6 PM."

"What? Dude, I thought today is your off." Arthur's companion whined and protested softly with hands on his waist.

"Mr Honda couldn't get to that ad shoot today so I'll have to compensate." He tapped Alfred firmly on the shoulder. "Now, get your skates on because we still have a bit of time to buy your ice cream."

Arthur walked out from the apartment entrance first and after a second or two of pausing, Al followed and caught up to him. Arthur peeked onto his tan-coloured strapped wristwatch and sighed with a breath of relief.

_It's three-thirty, I still have two and a half hours to accompany Al and I'll be straight to the studio. Good thing, I brought with me my camera and lenses so I don't have to go back to the flat to fetch things._

Arthur peeked onto his wristwatch and calculated off the minutes that might be spent on walking to that place that his beloved frequented for helpings of ice cream. As he stared onto the quartz he kind of psychologically hears every passing tick. Each of those miniscule sounds rhymed with the light patter of their footsteps, the distant car horns and city sounds in general.

They must get there by fifteen minutes or else if Al would blabber about anything about his budding career as a photojournalist, he would get to listen to it for an hour or so and apparently he would be late for work. Just thinking of it makes him tired and sigh all the same.

"Y'know, if you don't have to go with me if you have work to do. I mean, it's already three thirty something right?"

"No. I want to go with you. There is still time."

Alfred squared his shoulders and looked straight ahead. Both of them have walked fast enough through the walkway with crowds of people, then walking mostly in the opposite direction. When they reached the pedestrian crossing, they have to wait for the traffic to halt in red light and cross. However, they have to cross two more of these in order to get to the place.

Arthur's phone rang again but he didn't quite hear it but felt the vibration in his pocket. He took out his phone again and answered the caller, whose number was anonymous to his phonebook memory.

"Hello?"

Although, it wasn't actually as anonymous when it came to his mind's own memory.

"_Mon ami… when are you going to visit me here in the city of love? It's been almost three months, I'm starting to get bored already!"_

"Francis, please fuck somebody else, I'm taken." Arthur flatted out carefully not for others to hear him.

"_Quoi? Is that for real, my love? Am I really hearing you rejecting me this time?"_

"Yes."

"_So what? You have no problem having two on your bed…"_

Arthur tapped the end call button, not even caring on what kind of purposeless argument that heathen Frenchman has to say.

_It's been three months, my arse. What he should say is 'it's been three years'._

He did quite remember clearly how the Frenchman was just at one time one of the persons that had a sensible relationship with him. But it was full of crap. Exactly three years ago it is and ended about just after three months but he hates to admit it that the guy still gave him a good shag whenever he needed it in the past three years.

"Who was that?" Al pulled his companion closer and asked softly bending his head towards the other one's ear.

"Somebody not important." As soon as Arthur finished those words the _walk _sign flashed in green and even though Al would want to inquire some more in his curiosity, a mob of pedestrians would push them over to cross the busy street.

Al blinked his eyes and stared towards Arthur as both of them crossed the street together. The two of them side-by-side amidst the unforgiving crowd, he would grab his love by the elbow and protect the other from being trampled upon by the rush of the horde. The city ambiance and the gush of soft warm wind made it a picturesque moment that would last in his memory forever. He would sometimes ask himself if there is something more that he wants in life. He would always find a very simple answer deep inside his heart.

_I don't need anything more than this.  
It's more than enough… it is actually too much for a blessing.  
If he's happy, I don't have any reason to be dissatisfied about anything.  
It would even make me live for more than a thousand years.  
If I would see him happy,_

_Everyday…_

"Alfred, wait." Arthur grasped his palm on Al's arm asking him to stop for a while. The two of them stopped just outside of a furniture shop, taking shade from the dark green awnings of the store windows. He then continued, "My shoulder's cramped a bit… Oh."

Al quietly laughed in purposeless amusement that had made Arthur raise one of his prominent eyebrows. The other one immediately stopped, frowning a little bit and said "Okay, okay. Hand me over your satchel, I'll carry it for you…"

The other one handed his satchel packed full of lenses, adapters and a digital camera over to Alfred. However, he had left his DSLR camera bag hanging on his shoulder as he thought that it might be a bit too much if Al carries all of these things. He would then ignore his partner's amused and sparkly eyes, much as then, he beckoned Alfred with his hand, telling him silently to stop laughing and hurry on their way.

"Hey, you could really pass that camera bag to me. Your shoulders are cramping I bet those need some rest." Al spoke and suggested this, his hand already trying to grab Arthur's DSLR camera bag's strap.

Arthur squirmed away and put Al's hand aside. "I'm okay now, really. I could carry this thing very well. I guess I just needed a little help in those heavy lenses." He grimaced as turned his right shoulder in a circular motion and some joint can be heard clicking.

Al chuckled. "You need more exercise to build up your flexibility and endurance. You're only twenty-three and there you are acting like an old man. And don't abuse your shoulder by carrying too much freakin' heavy stuff."

"It's fine, really… I could manage this on my own." Arthur tried hiding his impatience behind his weak smile.

However, Alfred, even though he sensed a bit of his partner's irritation, still insisted. "Hand me that over, please. I could really carry that for you, I'm sturdy… can't you se-"

"Just… just shut up okay? Don't treat me like I'm fucking made of cottonballs." Arthur hissed. He would be nothing but surprised on how those words came out of his mouth. Confused, he would look away with his heart growing more and more constricted. He wanted to say sorry but couldn't find the proper words. What makes him more surprised is that he was feeling kind of happy that he had hurt Alfred's feelings somehow.

However, as he stepped forward and leaving Al behind, his chest expects to be hugged tightly. His hand was sure that it'll be receiving loving warmth from the caress of Al's own by this minute.

But instead, there were none. All there is was this awkward sound of silence blocking out the loud noise of speeding cars and passing double-deckers.

A bit hurt, his heart feeling a bit of heavy dismay, Arthur turned back and flatly said. "Come on, let's get going."

Al twitched his lips and nodded. His foot nonetheless, stepped forward to meet Arthur's steps. As they moved forward along the walkway, his soulful blue eyes would roll sideways and fix itself into the others more soulless and soulless one.

Arthur had noticed it and faced Al with a wrinkled brow. "What?"

"I would jus' want to remind 'ya that you have beautiful green eyes." Alfred sighed and smiled slightly.

The other one only let out an expression of doubt with a slight inward laughter that sounded like oh-really-ok-whatever.

"It's a shame that you would hide it all behind that temper of yours."

Tired of having another bitter word war with Al, he just remained silent and blinked hard in exasperation.

Both footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly unfitting silence amongst the raucous sound of the city. None of them two could ignore the sound of their breathing, the dull pain that would radiate by feelings of uncertainty and the constant neediness for affirmation. The sound of their screaming thoughts would go louder and louder for each stretch of sidewalk that their foot would trample upon.

But by every metre left behind, farther and farther from which they came from, to the point where people were getting lesser and lesser in number… Their hands would get closer and closer until they held, tenderly, softly and purely.

_Arthur, I just want you to be happy. I don't want to see you again in those difficult situations like you used to._

_Alfred, you don't deserve to have someone like me. I know you could only be hurt. I just want you to be as happy as you used to be._

There would be these words that are only kept by wordless chatters, hesitant to come out and afraid for the hurt that it will bring about. Both arrived at the parlour not so long after and that was only then that the silence between their lips shall be shattered by a simple invitation.

"Alfred, you should go inside first. Wait for me there, I'll have to make a call OK?" Arthur had let his warmed palm fall into his side. He smiled at his beloved one, something to tell him not to worry about anything. And hell, Arthur knows that it was so difficult to put up a front, to not fall into his own anxiousness. It was all too difficult.

Alfred would nod, letting the other's hand go physically, although the ghost of it will haunt his hand for a while. He had seen him smile again, his feelings had lifted up a bit. His own lips would stretch into a small but faintly sad smile. As he had turned his back and grasped the door handles of the ice cream shop, a reasonably loud chime is heard and a faint welcoming of a sales crew.

Another chime was heard that had reminded Arthur that he was now alone at the front of the establishment. He felt for his phone on the pocket and would not be surprised if the time tells him that he could really be late for today's work. It won't hurt to be late anyway, even for just one single day.

He tapped a number that was on his call list and pressed the green call button. He sighed and wished that the other end would not be so stupid not to pick up when he had just called in some few minutes ago.

"_Oh, Arthur! Have you already missed my voice in such a short time? Had I not called you just a few minutes ago, isn't it not?"_

"In your bloody dreams, frog." He replied, rolling his eyes in contempt.

"_So what are you calling for, my love?" _The Frenchman's voice gurgled in the electronic line.

Arthur leaned his back to the wall. His cheerless expression would gaze blankly to each passing pedestrian. He suddenly regrets that he ever called the lad back. He doesn't even know what to say. There were problems that plague him, to say the least. But he was the kind of person that would deny asking help from others and would rather shut himself alone than to admit to others that he's trapped in a very difficult situation.

"Nothing. I'm just tired. Maybe I am just too sick of living this monotonous life of mine."

"_By what you say monotonous, you mean monogamous."_

Green eyes glared at the man who was thousands of miles away. "Hey! What are you trying to imply?"

"_Isn't that what you said a while ago? Somebody's taking you for a solo drive at rue d'amour."_

"Yes that's true! But I'm not in any way had been screwing around…"

"_Like having your pole in other holes, dear?"_

"Shut up that filthy mouth of yours." Arthur's eyes darted from side to side, some cold sweat beaded and tickled down his brow bone.

"_Why are you so defensive? Have you actually cheated-?"_

"Yes."

"_SERIOUSLY?"_

"No."

"_I won't believe you… So who did you shag this time, mon amour?"_

"You. Remember that night months ago?" The moment he said this, his heart had beaten so hard as hazy images from his mind revealed themselves like invisible ink under fire.

"_What?! You said you were SINGLE? Like I cared about it but… SERIOUSLY?"_

"No." Arthur slowly closed his eyes hard.

"_Oui. Fine, I won't mess with you."_

Just as always, he expected that every conversation he would have with Francis would end up hopelessly senseless. But thinking about what the Frenchman had said, Arthur thought that it might not actually hurt to admit that there might be a bit of some truth to it.

Even though how he covers the guilt with humour, expressing his sins as a laughable matter. He used those laughs to overshadow the indecent memories until he felt like those were only vague jokes and had never actually happened. It still would not be less foul and he knows that it would never be forgivable. Not in the slightest.

No matter how he tried to hide something that's utterly unforgivable, he wasn't able to put up a good lie. It wasn't that he was truthful most of his life, but someone had taught him to be. And it just became that he hadn't in any way became good both in telling lies and telling the truth. One always covers another, to protect some ugly, bitter truth or lie that was hidden in the depth of his words.

He sighed and continued to talk. "But something was actually right about what you said. I hate to admit it but it what torments me the most. Maybe, I was just so afraid to hurt someone because I might end up putting my sword on other cases."

A silence swept up in both of them.

"Francis? Dear friend, are you fortunately dead?" Arthur broke up the dead air.

"_No, mon ami. But it really had wounded me far. I had never thought that you love this person so much."_

"Why did you say that? I'm a terrible person."

The next he had heard is some hearty nasal laugh from the other end.

"_If you are such a terrible person now, my friend… You wouldn't even bother if you hurt anybody. You used to not care and so indifferent towards others! Oh how big brother is so proud of you."_

If he's such a terrible person, he won't feel as much guilt like this. Wouldn't he?

"Idiot."

Arthur's eyes watered, he felt like crying but he managed to suck it up.

"_But still I wouldn't mind if you go all the way down here for some fun like we used to, mon cheri."_

Arthur has somehow felt light as he finally had aired out his troubles, even in just an infinitesimal extent. Even though he just left it bland and masked it with his own lies. Even with a person whom he had naturally disliked. He never would have thought how things would change in such a short time. How he would actually change. Some time ago, he was so sure that guilt would never torment him. He was sure that he could do anything that he wants, he could _get_ anything that he wants and he could have his hands on anyone he fancies. He could set aside the feelings of others without even feeling a bit of remorse. But now, he felt sullied. He felt filthy.

His guilt had set him free, as it would cage him in troubles.

He gripped his camera bag and slid his phone inside his pocket.

He walked towards the parlour's entrance with some front of a smile on his lips. He pushed the glass door and the chimes went off again. He flexed his head side by side looking for Alfred. He had just stopped searching when he spotted the guy. Al was in the table at one corner near some wall of glass, his hand quite raised for him to see.

Arthur approached him immediately and took the seat in front of Alfred.

"Hey."It was all that Alfred said as a greeting as he dug his spoon into the big dollop of frozen white stuff in a cup.

"Hey." That very word was also all that Arthur could reply to him at the moment. He pursed his lips, smiled and crossed his legs, staring at the heap of ice cream getting from point cup to point mouth.

Alfred smiled back at him with that charming and exuberant air that he always have.

Arthur had always been addicted to that exact smile. It was like some drug to him that makes him euphoric and high with happiness. He would do anything to see that smile again and again. Al continued to munch with much focus in his favourite ice cream in the world, after a few seconds, Arthur had finally found a moment in which he could butt in into Al's consciousness.

"Alfred, can you pass me my satchel?" He pointed towards the other chair on Alfred's side which contains his things that Al had carried for him.

Al blinked and passed him the satchel. Arthur reached for it, placed it on his lap and unzipped it open. He dug his hand inside searching for something. Seconds after, he got it and his hand pulled a small red and blue gift-wrapped package and handed it to Alfred.

"Happy birthday to you, Alfred."

Alfred's eyes widened and he almost forgot the taste of vanilla in his mouth. He took the package and excitedly unwrapped it like a small child. When the content was exposed, he smiled again with that smile that had always made Arthur glad.

"Dude! I thought you have forgotten! Really, but thank you! Thank you so much."

"It's a surprise. How could I ever forget your birthday?" He pushed his upper body closer to Al and pleasingly smiled. "That would be quite impossible."

"How did you get a copy of Guns and Aliens II? What I know is that it wouldn't be out till August!"

"Oh, one of the developers was a friend of mine." Arthur revealed with an amused, slight laugh.

Alfred placed his well-loved gift inside his bag and went on. "Why haven't you told me about that? 'Ya have to let me meet that pal of yours."

Arthur's smile went into a bit of hesitation but then he answered "Yes, of course… certainly."

He watched the other one's blue eyes fondly gaze at him when a thought suddenly came up to him.

"We should have some sort of a remembrance for this day, I think." He popped out a pocket digital camera. "A photo, perhaps?"

Alfred immediately transferred at the seat next to his beloved and shifted himself close to the other's thinner frame. Arthur flexed his arm and positioned for a shot. They did this a couple of times more after, imprinting a precious moment into immortality.

They both checked out each shot.

"And look, Al..." Arthur pushed a button at the panel resulting in an almost silent sound of paper rolling out. He took the print out and given it to Alfred.

"Wow, A modern Polaroid. I've read about the product once but I have only seen it this time."

Now, Arthur had his own moment to fondly gaze at Al with his increasingly sombre green eyes. He let out a smile that seemed frail in its own light, compared to the brightness of the latter's own. His lips uttered small words to keep up as Al turned to him again, expressing that same charming smile.

"This print is at most perfect, I had thought once that this device wasn't a good buy." Arthur commented undoubtedly with a small laugh.

Alfred turned his blue eyes towards the other's and raised an eyebrow. "You know, in all the numerous camera lenses that you can ever put a name to, our faces will be always perfect… your face will be always more than perfect." He quickly then placed a small, innocent kiss into Arthur's cheek.

"Hey!" Arthur quietly retorted and rolled his eyes around their surroundings. "Someone could have seen you, idiot."

Al got back to the seat in front of his love and reached for his once-abandoned cup of vanilla ice cream. "Don't be angry. I bet you'll allow me to get away with it this time. It's my birthday, 'ya know." He then gathered and stirred the frozen-treat-turned-soft with his spoon, forming a pointy centre. "And if you would just allow, I would do that every day. I am proud of 'ya… I am proud of our relationship and if 'ya would allow me to shout it loud now, I would. I would never be ashamed. Arthur, Is there really something to be ashamed of?"

_Is there really something to be ashamed of?_ Those words struck through Arthur's mind, impaling him down to his heart. He went silent after feeling a dull but painful sting, leaving him with guilt-ridden wounds."

"No." That was all that he uttered. He let out that single word almost inaudibly in a subconscious fear that he, himself, couldn't explain and wouldn't recognise.

Alfred raised one eyebrow at that silence but then he had decided to change the topic. "Aren't you gonna order? And what is it that 'ya do outside a while ago?"

"Just caught-up to some old friend that just called… and why the hell did you not order for me?"

Actually, Arthur was surprised that Al hadn't picked an ice cream for him. He used to do that every time.

"Some old friend…" Alfred toyed the melted ice cream with his spoon. "Would 'ya mind telling me who that is?"

"Not important in the slightest, Alfred."

"I just want to know. Can't 'ya even tell a name? I don't know them anyway."

"Sorry, no." Arthur flatted out diverting his eyes away from Al's interrogating gaze.

Al hadn't immediately said something in return as he heard Arthur blocking and driving away his inquiries. It doesn't feel right inside of him but he can't help but be suspicious of the way Arthur rolled his eyes away from him. On how he noticed Arthur's uneasiness coming out transparently, he could almost hear the other one's pulse go overdrive.

Alfred knew that he himself wasn't the prying type but after all those questions left unanswered ever since the time he held Arthur's hand, he can't in any way let another one pass without a sensible response. That's the reason why he insisted and asked again.

"Why?"

"Just please…" Arthur pulled out a weak glare "please drop the topic already."

"I am sorry to say this but I think there is something that you are refusing to tell me."

Al didn't get any responses from Arthur that had his eyes away from him. Arthur thought that he was the one who was going to snap at this unbearable conversation that entraps them both. He didn't expect that Alfred's the one who's gonna snap this time. He could do nothing but clasp his hands tightly as both of them exchange words that were long drowned in resentment.

"You returned all away from the outside, _from your phone call_, with eyes reddened like you have been crying. You think I wouldn't notice that? So, tell me honestly... Is there any?"

"Alfred, please don't spoil this afternoon. We're not by ourselves at the flat, we're in public-"

"I don't fucking care! IS THERE ANY?"

"Alfred, please..."

"For God's sake, if you weren't hiding anything, 'ya could have only said no."

Arthur couldn't dare to feel. He couldn't dare to speak. He couldn't dare to look at Al's maddened eyes and he could not bear for any of it to force out all the guilt from him. Alfred's heavy breathing and trembling control made him even more wither in pain and hurt that he supposed to have been prepared of from the start. He never knew he couldn't actually keep up with a heartache that felt so real.

If only he had been more honest...

"Even though how much I tried to reach you, you would always be one step ahead of me. I don't really care about that, really. I would even tell myself again and again that you might just be not that expressive kind. But I really felt that there is some growing gap. I would always try to fill it in because I love you. I really do love you. But I'm not numb, I have feelings… and every time that you would shun me out, I am hurt. Terribly hurt."

...But it had seemed already too late.

"Arthur, I... I just don't know if you're happy with me anymore."

He could only do nothing but stare for one last time at his exuberant darling who had his beautiful blue eyes that had once captivated him, moisten up with tears. Those lips that had always showed happiness had now nothing but a faded smile.

"What are you trying to say?"

Arthur could do nothing but put a hopeless faith that the love they have shall endure.

"I'm breaking up with you."

-o**0**o-

...

* * *

**A/N:**

**DISCLAIMER  
**(Applicable to & AO3 only)

Cover image original:  
【腐】今日はどんな  
© Pixiv ID: 9282609  
Member: こんもり 冬ネ-08a


	2. The Elusive Photographer

**Photographs  
**~AN APH FANFICTION~

**Warnings:** Human AU, Male Slash,  
Inappropriate themes and languages, Character Death  
(non-suicide) Don't Like? Don't Read!  
Favourite, Follow, Review – your choice  
**Chapter Warnings:** M for a reason goes here.  
Lots of Flashbacks  
**Chapter Pairings:** SpUK, USUK, SpaBel

I don't own APH whatsoever.

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Elusive Photographer**

...

-o**O**o-

_Trust, trust… How far can you go with just trust?_

...

* * *

...

September, two years ago  
New York City

"You didn't actually have to come here with me."

Those were the words that shattered the wall of silence between two people that seem to avoid staring at each other's eyes. One of them may have more intention to evade than the other, but strangely enough, that person was actually the one who spoke first and broke the subdued awkwardness. Despite those initiating words, he nonetheless still kept himself from darting his pair of deep green eyes to the flaxen-blond young man who was casually sitting at the hotel room's cream upholstered chair.

The seated young blond stared blankly at the short pile of magazines that were perfectly lined at the wooden nightstand across him. Finally hearing a voice after the seemingly endless silence, he flicked his lazy pale green stare for a second to his slightly older, darker haired companion whose body lay tired and heavy onto the pristine hotel bed sheets.

Both of them just arrived from a seven and a half-hour flight from across the Atlantic and it was only a mere fifteen minutes since they arrived at their hotel room. Two luggage bags can be seen placed untidily in a corner, one is set upturned and the other which was dark red in colour was almost off the luggage rack. The Manhattan skyline was truly remarkable and breath-taking at nightfall as seen from their fifteenth floor corner suite. However, some aching mood of brewing disquietness stripped the pretty lights and darks of much expected admiration, only turning it into an ignored, meaningless band of vague shadows.

Suddenly, the seated one squirmed a little bit then finally stood up and walked towards the nightstand. His unhurried steps got him close enough to sense the faint last notes of his companion's familiar scent. It got him even closer enough to hear the very faint sound of scrunching ash brown hair as the man uneasily shifted away from his presence.

The blond's inert lips never planned to speak anything in reply to what the other had just said. Sheer silence in words still prevailed all throughout the subtly lighted room as he crouched low and scanned through the magazines with his index finger. Not so long after, he finally pulled one out of the pile and indifferently returned to where he was sitting before.

As the one on the bed never heard anything in response to what he had said, he firmly uttered again "Arthur–"

"And now, you're talking to me." The blond cut him out dryly in between a quick insolent laugh as he picked his prescription reading glasses from its hard leather case and fitted it through his ears. The magazine he chose was flipped open and by simple chance a page spread across revealed an _haute horlogerie_ print ad whose alluring tan-skinned male model was a handsome brunet with deep green eyes.

The other one's tense hands crumpled the bed sheets underneath in immediate reaction to those bitter-toned words. His pair of once calm and steady eyes immediately shifted into a glare towards the empty ceiling above, synchronising with a sharp sigh at exasperation's edge. He quickly pulled his body up and left the bed with a map of creases. At that very moment, the same eyes now pierced its glare through the glass that framed the unnoticed view of Manhattan's silhouettes, mad and irritated.

Having enough of keeping the tension at bay, he felt no bit of hesitation to turn back and look at the seated young man's untroubled eyes, putting across a definite message that he ensured to get through by means of his intent stare.

For the first time in hours, their eyes finally met. However, it was in a manner that was rather more inexplicable and odd than just simple ill feeling. The cynical eyes behind those reading glasses weren't kind but it was undeniably needy. The glaring deep greens were in contempt but weren't absolutely infuriated, even if it dared to… even if it wants to. They seem to contradict, like fire that is supposed to be ironically cold as ice but still was utterly and irrefutably scalding, in the most severe and unfeeling way.

Arthur refused to let his needy self gradually bare into stark nakedness. Evading his own unsettling feelings, he raised an eyebrow well and above his black-rimmed glasses so that he could hide himself behind his mocking, sarcastic and wordless question of _'what now?'_

The peevish brunet huffed at that blatant attempt of mockery. He faced somewhere else, slightly shaking his head twice then exhaled in disdain. His eyes quickly swept once more towards his seated companion's own, keeping it sullen and steady until he realises that having a civil conversation with the sardonic young man would never be a possibility. Giving up, he uttered a low _'I'll just take a shower'_ and walked away, feeling nothing but complete vexation.

Arthur almost allowed himself to just see the man in front of him disappear from his vision. However, his upset mind can no longer contain nor stand something that feels like falling towards the edge. That feeling, for him was nothing but a very terrible insult to his unwavering self-assurance. He was supposed to be controlling everything, _everything_ on his grasp. As that dark blue-clad back walked further away, he felt like he was losing grip… and he was never even fond of losing anything. For that reason, he ensured that before anything happens, he always had this plan.

_They can't and won't ever leave him. They would stay. They __**should**__ stay.  
And he shall never even resort into any kind of begging.  
Begging is absurd… utterly disgraceful.  
Therefore, it must never be a necessity._

As the man treaded away towards the nearby bathroom, Arthur quickly got on his feet and caught up to him, blocking the passage through the solid dark oak door. He still managed to vainly grasp the doorknob with his hand that also holds the now-folded magazine. However, it was immediately seized and thrown back to him by a supposed familiar companion, who never appeared as undaunted and as stubbornly bold as before.

Arthur's patience was tried even further, making his once languid eyes turn sharper and a little vicious. He took hold of the door again and pushed it wide open with unnecessary force. The noise it produced as it smashes to the surface of the wall made his previously undaunted companion flinch, which in turn, instantaneously told him off with a despised reaction.

"What is wrong with you?!"

"You wanted to chat, do you?"

Arthur never waited for a response and immediately walked inside, his steps all seemed composed. He sat at the cold top of the marble bathroom counter, fanned open the scrunched magazine and continued reading where he had left off. His countenance turned softer, unfittingly softer. It was as if to perplex and confuse by portraying calmness in the most menacing of ways. As he noticed the other one isn't going to do what he has been told to do, he again spoke to him with a strange, aggressively gentle voice.

"You haven't spoken a word the whole flight, of course I'll be stunned hearing you talk. You spoke earlier, as if you finally wanted to talk to me and now I'm letting you talk, it seems like you wouldn't. What is it that you really want? Don't be so incoherent, Antonio. You absolutely know that I don't like being confounded."

Antonio steadied his angered huffs into gradual breathing. Increasingly, he can't deny being intimidated by Arthur's display of aggression. He felt a little ashamed of himself… and angered altogether. Although to some other person, his threatened feeling would be just a downright laughable matter. Arthur's mild words and soothing expression wouldn't pass for an average person's usual expectation of aggressiveness. However, a year was enough for him to know what obscured madness was hiding behind that calm and controlled demeanour.

It had been an entire year and he should have known better.

In all those months, Arthur did nothing but to forcefully drown him in so much loathing— all pure loathing for himself and much towards the aggressive blond. It filled him up fatally until he cannot almost breathe. Now, he's brimmed to the edge, just wanting to explode and finally find relief. But despite of this urge, it will always come to him that he wasn't a violent person… that he was someone sensible. Just who in their right reasons would try to level the madness of a twisted man's mind?

That'll be very foolish.

Though, he doesn't really know until when he could hold himself back and just be satisfied fighting with mere lowly words.

"I... I just can't believe you sabotaged this whole thing." Antonio's loafers squeaked in contact with the spotless floor as he made uneasy steps towards Arthur. He tried speaking calmly but his voice inevitably broke, spilling his anger. "The show has nothing to do with you. I'm here because I had shed my own blood, sweat and tears just to pass those casting calls!"

He paused, trying to regain a little bit more composure in his words then continued, only to fail.

"And what did you do? You nonchalantly tailed me here and even cancelled my apartment!"

"That's absolutely preposterous." Arthur stopped reading and stared at him with an unperturbed reaction. "I didn't tail you here _nonchalantly_ as if I do not have better things to do. I think it would be impolite to decline an invite for an event like this. I don't have to explain further. You, yourself can understand that much—"

"Don't make me laugh!" Antonio was really losing his patience shred by shred to the point of danger. Hesitation could only try hard to push itself to him and attempt to pull back all the enraged words he was saying. "For all I know, you could really let me go alone this time if you wanted to!"

To Arthur, the sound of his companion's angered voice was really grating. However, he could only smirk wickedly in his mind as he foresees the indignant man's eventual falling into his inescapable trap. He smugly flips another page in his magazine and continued his provoking words.

"I cannot get what you're getting all mad about. I perfectly know that you're still going to walk at that show. The only difference is, I'm here and you're going to stay with me."

"That's it! That's the problem!" Antonio pointed his finger into nothing in particular and then kept on talking. "Can't you even trust me going alone for just once?"

"Trust, trust… how bloody far can you go with just trust?" Arthur sighed.

"Are you afraid that I might be walking out on you?"

The blond looked away snorting a quick, deceivingly sad laugh.

"Oh god, don't go on being so insecure!" After walking aimlessly in irritation, Antonio finally stopped and got nearer into Arthur's impassive face, flashing his eyes in protest. "You have me on a _short_ leash for a _long time_ and did you hear anything from me? No! Did I run and left you? No! DID I FUCK SOMEBODY ELSE?! NO!"

Those words stabbed itself through Arthur's ears like sharp daggers. He curled his fists tight, crumpling the edges of the magazine he was holding. Even with that, the corner of his lips still verged into a held-back smirk. His deliberate, cold, anticipating eyes blinked and quickly rolled a glance towards the brunet's face.

"Arthur, aren't we together?"

He knew it— every bit of Antonio's weaknesses. He knew the extents of his conscience, the limits of his temperament, his every quirk and mannerism. He knew how he ticks, what he likes and what he hates. And among all those things that he hated, Arthur knew all too well that Antonio can never stand being distrusted.

His eyes drifted down to Antonio's crossed arms and stared unfeelingly through the white gold band around the man's ring finger.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, yes… of course." He quickly shifted his now placid, greyish-green stare towards the brunet's own rare vivid pools of green and blithely smiled. "Come, come closer…"

Antonio unwarily stepped closer and at once received a warm, enthralling hug. The magazine that Arthur was holding dropped off into the tiled bathroom floor, producing a spread of faint echo towards the acoustic walls. His ears caught a glimpse of its resonance, along with its harmonious interlacing with the delicate sound of Arthur's steady breathing. The breath was warm, lingering softly under his jaw and ear, beckoning him… enticing him. The mild sound along with the feeling of embrace was strangely quaint, too soothing, pleasant…

Dangerous.

Antonio got himself loose from his lover's comforting hold, drove his impulsive hands onto the young man's soft and flaxen strands then vehemently kissed a pair of startled, slightly parted lips.

Arthur's hands clumsily held onto the edge of the bathroom counter and behind him. In finding balance, his right hand hit a couple of shower gels that eventually came crashing down into the empty sink. He closed his eyes, eventually holding on Antonio's waist and felt the sensual kiss pursue the depths of his mouth. As the man's soft lips finally drawn into a halting small peck, he sees the uneasy but ultimately sultry green eyes seem to utter an apology.

However, that apology was only refused at point-blank by a quick pushing motion of strong and gripping hands. Antonio's back collided with the shower's frosted glass panel, his head bumping unto the surface synchronously with a crashing of a retaliating mouth.

The kiss was thoroughly assertive, blowing his mind into a haze of temptation. Antonio found it so hard to resist and not respond to a kiss that was too overwhelmingly carnal and pornographic. His eyelashes eagerly met as he shut his eyelids to enter the darkest of passions. Those captivating, earthly senses he felt wrestled cruelly against his increasingly vague reasons. Everything perished in an instant except for the madness. All that it is was pure madness. He knew that he wasn't supposed to give in to these kinds of compulsions, if he really was so sure that he had remained any respect for what's left of his dignity.

However, his physical body uncontrollably ached for the need of pleasure. The whole feeling was making him alive... bringing his humanly desires in the realities of his mind. Even so, it also smothers him. He quickly stifles in its tight grasp. It kills him. It murders his pride.

Both men stopped for a moment as they vainly catch their breaths in hasty and intense gasps. Arthur rested his head onto the crook of Antonio's neck giving it a soft peck as his right hand gently caressed the man's cheek and raked through his hair of luscious ash brown. As the light kiss died in the warmth of the alluringly tanned skin, Arthur whispered in a breathy, persuasive voice.

"If you don't like this, just push me away..." he then rolled his eyes away, smirking "That is... if you can even dare to."

Antonio wasn't sure if he had correctly heard all of those words. He can't help but to be bothered by his own mind and body, turning against its promised limitations. All that he could only put focus to was the urging sexual demands that his body screams quietly. Little by little it turns against him, conceding and holding a banner of defeat right in front of the heinous, debauched aggressor called _lust_. Not even a few seconds after, he began to respond and capture the blond's lips again in more provocative neediness. His tongue battled Arthur's soft, erotic one and pushed itself further into the depths of his mouth.

"So… It seems like… you really can't." Arthur murmured out in between wet, squelching kisses, small chuckling and huffing.

Their lustfulness had taken possession of them, overshadowing their minds and bodies with ferocious desire, eventually taking them inside the shower by means of each other's forceful urges. Arthur's cardigan was hastily pulled off from him and tossed on the floor. Each of their shoes were thrown and left messily across the bathroom, upturned and spaced apart. Bodies moved violently in salacious desire as private parts pressed and fingers dug into still clothed shoulders. Antonio's elbow accidentally brushed through the shower's loose controls, causing a slight drizzle of warm water spraying from above, drenching the remainder of their clothes.

Arthur's eyeglasses steamed up. He notices the layer of mist as he flutters his eyes open, causing him to momentarily stop and remove the pair, placing them on the chrome-plated soap dish.

Making use of that small pause, Antonio felt for the shower knob with his left hand and grasped it with the intention of turning it off.

"No, leave it open. It'll be fun." Arthur chucklingly said in a low voice as he began to sweep his mouth and devour his man's succulent damp neck. A hand of his lightly drifted down to the upper buttons of the dark blue shirt, opening them one by one. As he hears the pinned man quietly gasp in pleasure, he knew that he had triumphantly regained his grasp and control over him.

Antonio felt the trails of kisses tingle in his neck and slither towards his exposed, heaving chest. As his insatiable lover moved above to seek more of his moans by a gentle lick to the ear, he in turn let his hands wander down the young man's buttocks. His lascivious grasp invited Arthur to press his hips even more firmly towards his own. When his lustful wishes were granted by the intense hip thrusts he received, his hands clutched the young man's lower back, pulling the drenched, tucked white shirt and felt the bare smooth skin with the rubbing of his palm. However, of all the warmth that engulfs his hand, there's some numb part of it that utterly refused to let itself be forgotten. His thumb slowly ran across it— the cold, smooth band wrapped around his ring finger.

Finally realising the weight of wrongs he had almost ignored, he let his hands fall down on his sides and loosened away from Arthur's embrace. His head turned away just in time for his lips to escape another of the young man's kisses. He then weakly grasped the unfastened shower knob and turned it closed.

"I'm sorry." Antonio muttered, raking his fingers through his damp hair "I really can't do this anymore."

Arthur's eyes widened. Some small water droplets on the side of his face roll against his cheek. A brief silence let a few more liberated droplets to be heard falling from the drained shower head. That silence lasted for just a few seconds before a sharp voice smashed it into countless pieces.

"Why?" Arthur asked without ever intending to wait for a response. As he forcefully grabs Antonio's left hand and held it up, he continued speaking in a hissing manner. "Because of this?! Do you fail to recollect what this has cost you? Did you forget that—"

"I know! You don't have to scream it at my face! I know my marriage is over!"

Everything was all so close to their edges but still failed at the farthest point of time. Antonio was close into giving himself in, but he was stopped by a fading memory. That fading memory was so close into refreshing in his mind, but his evasion blocked it off bluntly. Then again, even though how much he tried, some simple questions are enough to bring the honest truth right out from his mouth.

"Then why are you being an idiot?"

"Can't you get it?! I still love her! "

That same memory had effortlessly thwarted Arthur's supposed infallible plans. He was so close too… so close into succeeding. Shall he give up just because of some memory from the past? To him, it would be absolutely ridiculous if he'll concede just as easily. For he knows well that those exact memories aren't enough to make him feel a least bit threatened. In fact, he could even add those in his very own arsenal of coercions.

And that entire arsenal he kept would always be there at his back, waiting to be put into good use.

"Huh! Don't go on being so sure about that!" Arthur said, turning his head away to let out a slight laugh. He then returned his attentions, fixing his impassive stare towards Antonio's narrowed eyes. "Because for what I remembered, the first time I had _fucked _you was nowhere but in your marriage bed!"

After all, he thought, he could use those memories to remind Antonio of his place in their relationship.

"And let me remind you… it wasn't even a few weeks after your divorce, am I correct?"

As those words broke into his hearing, everything swept irrepressibly inside Antonio's mind. The memory of a bitter separation wasn't yet too far to be forgotten. Even the sweet memory of a young love was yet too close for his recall. He remembers well how crazily in love he was when he asked his girl to marry him too soon. He remembers well how she was crazily in love with him too, as to say her yes to a young man of unstable means. _And oh god, she was beautiful…_ even on those low days when she accused him of having an affair with a fellow model… even on the day she last slammed the door at their Barcelona apartment and left him thoroughly empty.

All two years of marriage easily torn apart by mere distrust. It was made final just after two months of court proceedings. It was all too easy― they didn't have any children nor they have any valuable properties. It was all too fast― he immediately agreed to what his wife wanted. What will be the use of contesting the case? To prolong more agony and produce more hate in a relationship that was fast declining?

As if he wasn't already hated enough by her.

Even so, he loved her. He loved her enough to accept the fact his decisions didn't matter. He loved her too much that he willingly agrees on her words that it was all for good, even if it meant choking all the tears behind his pretences. All the truth of his self-hatred was only set free at night when he's alone. At day, all those regrets come rushing back to hide beneath his every smile, in every tranquil in his eyes as he bathed under the bright camera lights. In those excruciating times, it just became that those flashing lights are the only things capable of making him forget. He became addicted to it. He immediately had called that offer that was made to him by a certain successful photographer.

By chance, the photographer was also at Barcelona at that time. They met but he never had expected the discussion over terms and conditions to eventually turn into something casual.

_"You're a good man. Take it from me. Many people say that my intuition shocks them as they are usually correct. So don't be too hard on yourself because apparently, it's her loss. She should have valued you more rather than despise you. You might think I'm joking but I bet she'll never meet a man like you ever again."_

He would never had thought in his lifetime that those casual words will end up with the usual portfolio contract, but with the addition empty glasses of dry sherry and two naked bodies on top of his marital bed. He had let Arthur fuck him over his' and his wife's marriage bed that evening and he wasn't even half as legally drunk. However, he was mad, irrational and buried deeply towards a loss that he blamed upon himself. And he never knew to what extent those events would lead to. He never knew that it will lead him to barter his flesh for gratification, fame and fortune as if it were a mere thing to trade. Since after his divorce, he always felt that he had nothing more to lose anyway.

Now, he knows how much everything had cost as he pays the humiliating price.

And for that he could do nothing but drift his eyes away in shame.

"You better take that unsightly thing off. It's clearly quite an insult to your former wife… and to me as well, exceptionally." Arthur whispered close to his ear then backed off, fixing his shirt and grabs his reading glasses. "Now clean yourself thoroughly, I'll wait for you at the bed."

…

* * *

…

**Antique 1853 View Camera  
**Posted 09 September, 10:16 PM

_Photography hobbyists in the U.K.: Check this place out: I got this antique view camera from here in a bargain price. It's heavy, complicated and cumbersome… I hope I'll find a way to make this device function. Nothing beats the nostalgic feel of old photography…._

…_I had discovered these Daguerreotype plate images of my great-great grandfather. It was hidden in an old box back at my childhood home. Aren't they pretty? They come in an elegant golden and brown case too…_

…_Can anyone recommend me an ultra-wide lens converter and a…_

**Hasselblad  
**Posted 13 September, 9:30 PM

_I might purchase my very own Hasselblad DSLR by next month… well, if my finances would allow it. It would be a dream to personally own one but I'm still weighing its practicality. For now I shall be satisfied using the studio's…_

**Photography tips with me and G.  
**Posted 15 September, 10:07 PM

_These are some awesome photography tips written by me and hosted by my colleague, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Don't fret G. Your hosting skills are of pure awesomeness too… and you owe me a drink for typing that._

[Click here to play]

**Photography Challenge No. 26 (Photo Essay)  
**Posted 18 September, 06:08 AM

…_Subject matter for this round: "To where does that path go?". Make it as a creative photo essay (minimum of five photographs and maximum of ten). Submissions are accepted until the end of October._

**BOUND FOR NEW YORK IN LESS THAN FOUR HOURS  
**Posted 18 September, 07:48 AM

…_I'll be at New York for the weekend, staying in for a couple of days or maybe three. Actually it isn't really work-related as I was just accompanying a Spanish male model-friend of mine. He is going to walk in four shows. Last week I thought I was going to be chosen to shoot the live event. However, I didn't get the assignment … so practically, I am going to skip at my own work way back across the pond with an excuse that I got an invite (yes, I really did though and no, I won't turn it down). I'm still bringing my camera and equipment with me and I'll still be taking a handful of photos so it's not really a useless little vacation. Surely, I am going to try on some new techniques with a__ 70-200mm VRII lens__. Updates and samples will be uploaded as soon as I fly back._

Page 1 out of 40...** [Next]  
**Update Order [Recent] **[Old]**

Quick, nimble fingers tapped onto the sensitive finger pad of a fire engine red-coloured laptop. The screen's bright light was reflected in his titanium square-framed glasses. He's near-sighted but his myopia was so bad that he still needs the pair to read font size 12 text from the electronic device which was resting on his lap. Slouching with his head on two gathered white pillows, he scrolls and checks out a blog that he always frequented. When he read the last updated post, he smiled, brimming in pure bliss.

_Oh man, wow, he is in New York! There is going to have a chance that I could meet him y'know._

Coincidentally, He was also in New York. He was trying his luck at signing in various photography studios, so far he already got into five and two at most had already given him a promising nod. He didn't expect it that they would be impressed with his simple portfolio. To him, his skills still weren't that yet satisfactory enough. Everything could still be put up in a higher notch or two… make that three. He always had this consummate ideal of an excellent photographer― the one who had written that blog.

He had won a considerable seven out of twenty-five of all the photography challenges that the blogger had put up. And as just he was checking out the topic for his 26th entry, he saw the good news of the blogger's visiting of New York City. He was happy that his hard work was recognized by that outstanding professional photographer-blogger and his colleagues. Yes, the judging of the photographs was also partly of the bloggers co-workers criticisms. Maybe, someday he could land a spot on that renowned studio. Who knows? Perhaps, if chance would allow, he could work and learn hand in hand with that incredibly genius photographer.

He bit off the last bits of his hamburger from a white paper bag. Some crumbs got into the keyboard which he immediately shook off and brushed with his hand. He stared again at his laptop while crumpling the bag into a ball and continued to browse the other entries. Not so long after, he began to look again at the blogger's past uploaded photo albums.

He always liked the way he photographs, especially, when he comes to photograph people. It seemed like there was magic in his fingers that he made an ordinary wide-angle zoom lens into an 'eye of life'. Every person that he takes and immortalizes in images made him feel a dull, prickly nostalgia… even though he hadn't met any of those people. He thinks a photographer with that kind of a skill and dexterity should become an international photojournalist… it's just a shame that he's tied into doing professional fashion photography.

After some more browsing he clicked on the _Modelling Portfolios_ tab.

**Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Age 23 [click here for full album]  
**_A very talented model I had met at a Madrid show.  
Yes, he is my friend. I'm thankful he agreed to work with our group.  
Shot in Location: Barcelona, Palermo (Sicily) and Mallorca_

**Francis Bonnefoy, Age 25 [click here for full album]  
**_A versatile model I had known ever since I started photography  
He's very photogenic and easy to have good shots with.  
Shot in location: Palma (Mallorca) and Paris  
Studio shoots: NorthernLights Studios_

**Lovino Vargas, Age 20 [click here for full album]  
**_He's an Italian model who was discovered by a colleague while doing a shoot in Sicily.  
A promising, young and budding talent, I bet he will go far in the industry.  
Shot in Location: Porto Cervo and Cagliari (Sardegna), Palermo  
Studio shoot: NorthernLights Studios_

**Natalia Arlovskaya, Age 20 [click here for full album]  
**_A pretty and edgy swimsuit and lingerie model I met at an ad campaign.  
Hers was one of the portfolios I help build up. One of my best works too.  
Studio Shoot: NorthernLights Studios and Polaris Creative Photography_

**Ludwig Beillschmidt, Age 19 [click here for full album]  
**_He's a colleague's brother that does modelling part-time.  
His build is best suited for outdoors and sportswear.  
Studio Shoot: NorthernLights Studios and Polaris Creative Photography_

1-5 out of 23...** [Next]**

The sandy blond-haired young man scrolled down staring much at the four, perfectly-lined preview photos of each models flashed on the vivid screen. He paid attention to each of the photographs and couldn't help but stare in admiration and envy on the great skill expressed by the photographer in capturing both the human subject and the natural background of the on-location pieces of work. Even the studio-shot only pictures, they are brilliant and thorough all the same.

He often wonders in the past that if by any chance, even though infinitesimal, that he could be able to say and express his deep regard of the photographer's professional work in person.

On the bed, he shifted his weight into his other side and felt some tingling numbness in his right leg due to his lack of mobility in the past one and a half hour. He deeply calculated the closest chance that he and the blogger might bump into each other, in the sidewalk, in some food chain or maybe in the subway. Matter-of-factly, they're both in NYC after all.

_Yeah_. Now that he thought of it, that'll be next to impossible.

New York City had a bustling population of more than 8 million and counting. God knows how many hotels are there, how many restaurants are there, shops, streets, sidewalks and subways. Instead of getting the feeling that they are both closing in into each other, the thought had only defined in actual and specified terms how he described their anticipated meeting as an 'infinitesimal chance'.

He didn't even know the photographer-blogger's full name. Not even his face.

The blogger posted tons of his photography works but seemed to forget to post up a personal photo. Sometimes there would be a script-like signature found at the bottom right corner of some of his works, but they were nothing but a loopy "A. Kirkland". That must be surely his last name. However, "A." could mean almost anything. It might stand for Albert, Allistor, Austin and the thousand other names that start in the letter A. His own name starts in an A too― Alfred. What if they shared the same name? He could only laugh at the idea for his name never seemed to fit the photographer's surname.

_Or could the blogger be a girl?_ He was nevertheless thrilled at the far-fetched thought.

He sunk down his body into the depths of the warm duvet and closed the lid of his laptop, letting it shut down on its own. His heavy eyelids gently hid the subtly stinging, tired blue eyes that were tearing both in irritation and sleepiness. To immediately relieve himself of the soft sting, he mildly rubbed a knuckle underneath the cold frame of his eyeglasses. It didn't take long until he decided to finally go to sleep and put the pair away messily and unfolded near the glowing night lamp. However, just as he wished himself a 'sweet dreams', he suddenly remembers that he had to brush his teeth first.

After tossing, turning and scuffling with the heaviness of his body's drowsiness, he finally stood up, cussing a little bit and grabbed a pair of headphones from the tangled mess of the nightstand. Soon, the tune of Smash Mouth's _All Star_ came blasting onto his ears. He danced and sang his way into the bathroom as he tapped through a bunch of to-do lists that were just growing longer and longer on his mobile.

The winding list just reminded him that he should really be sleeping early as he has to wake up early in the morning. At first thing, he had to meet up with some landlady of the apartment he had inquired to a couple of days ago. In addition to that, he still has a couple of interviews by tomorrow afternoon and a bunch of prints he need to reproduce before going to each one. And so on and so forth… there were too many things to do since he decided to start building up his own career. However, it was completely a nice feeling. He can't help but smile. Even though it will be such a long way to go for him, he was sure that the journey will be one hell of an adventure.

…

* * *

…

_"You're quite great on the runway. Every shot that I took in every angle was exquisite... You look familiar though, I think I have seen you in a couple of magazines somewhere… Mind if I help you build up a new portfolio?... As a photographer, it'll certainly be a pleasure to work with you… Take my card. If you like, call me or you could visit our studio and take a look at your shots when I finish processing it."_

Those were just random words, almost too hazy that Antonio couldn't precisely remember everything. Yet he feels them hammering ruthlessly in his mind. By every touch and caress that trespasses his white bathrobe, he feels the sheer weight of his wrong decisions crush him even further beneath a grave that he himself had dug. But what strange feeling it is to be lured into a bitter destruction and still could taste nothing but the sweetness of sensuality! How could this tainted grave manage to mask itself as a bed of fragrant roses?

He never knew the answers… nor could he anymore recall what he spoke in reply to those random words. As Arthur grasped the front hem of his robe to coerce him into forgetting his shame, he could only wish that the vigorous kiss would take him back to that fateful day that caused that fateful small private show to happen. He could only wish that Arthur's violating mouth never uttered those praises to him, so that those forgotten replies of his― whatever those words might be― shall never had poured from his lips.

However, it was just too late. Every agreeing word had already been said. Every kindness had already deceived him. Every piece of affection had already irrevocably turned into a mad obsession.

And he was already in this shameful position.

As he reluctantly opened Arthur's grey denims, unclasping the front and freeing down the zipper, he feels the demands of his kneeling body destroying the increasingly weak fortifications of his pride. His uneasy lips were easily soothed by the comforting warmth as he kissed the patch of skin above and below the seated young man's navel. The soothing comfort he felt made him suckle traces of kisses that follows the trail of subtle darker blond hairs that disappeared into the underclothes of his enigmatic lover.

_"That… that. Hold… Keep your head still. Straighten your back, it's quite bent. Okay, I got it. Now, relax… give me a boyish slouch, like a casual posture… No, not like that! You look like a bloody rejected suitor with a bad headache. Oh… stop. That's it, now hold and… we got it! Ooh, this frame's burning hot. I'm sorry for saying this but all regrets to the woman who walked out on such a dashing model like you."_

Everything that Arthur was often exceeds his simple understanding. Behind all the talent, meticulousness, hard work and a rather accidental, occasional humour was this person whom only a few knows very well. He won't deny that he had been warned by those _few_ but it wasn't his personality to prematurely judge other people. But still, things would have been a lot better if he hadn't given Arthur the benefit of the doubt.

Then again, who would have possibly known? How could he have known? How on earth could he have kept his distance before it was too late?

On that regretful evening in Barcelona, he gave himself impetuously and might even have unintentionally seduced the young man just for the hell of his impulses. He knew it was his fault but it was Arthur who apologised to him and told him to just forget the incident. It was all a rush when that incident surprisingly turned to a friendship, then some generosity into affection. From affection it turned into possessiveness. Looking back, it all seemed inevitable.

In all reality, he wondered, what did Arthur really thought of him? What does he really want from him?

As he looked at Arthur's eyes from above he only felt how hard it is to decipher the young man's thinking. Every word that comes out from his mouth is like poison that disguises itself in honeyed pretensions. Arthur's sweet smile as he reached out to claim his lips once again were too perfectly tempered that anyone couldn't see it as too saccharine.

_"Oh really? Thank you very much! There aren't many renowned guests present here. I'm glad you took your time and enjoyed the show… Thanks for the card, I'll call of course."_

Arthur still remembers those words as if they were just spoken yesterday. He recalls very well how circumstances came a long way from just that single incident. Everything he had planned had been accomplished. As his trousers were quickly pulled down by a pair of hands that learned how to please, he was certain that he would always win. That no matter what, he would get anything he likes… anyone he fancies.

He gently closes his eyes and writhed at the edge of the bed as a hand hesitantly felt the clothed erection between his legs. The warm hand slowly got into pace, going up then down and firmly rubbing the cloth of his underwear into the hot skin. Wanting to put more fuel in his arousal by taking advantage of the visuals, he put the glance of his uninhibited half-lidded eyes onto Antonio's oblivious face.

That face― lightly tinted with the colours of shame and drawn darkly with vainly kept anxiousness― even with that, it still never ceased to captivate his senses. Arthur liked those brilliant eyes, though lowly and shamed, was still always vivid like the way it shone on each portfolio photo he had helped the young model to have. Arthur liked the way those delicately parted lips slowly seal and part again in nervousness. Those lips never failed to be alluring, whether be taking him in by the light of its charming smile coming through the lenses of his camera or by the way of its present sensual heat coming through the fabric of his underclothing.

Arthur felt Antonio's fingers clutch firmly at the snug band across the small of his back. He nudged his hips up as his underwear was gently slid off of him to ease its freeing. Soon, he feels nothing but the unhindered brushing of damp, naked lips onto his own freed nakedness. He pulled his tense body up from the support of his elbow and raked a hand through Antonio's drying strands of brown hair, palm resting on the flushed ears.

"I terribly want you now."

Antonio lifted his head towards the direction of Arthur's voice and quickly placed a stare towards him. His eyes were nothing but peculiar, boldly expressing both his reluctance and the irony of his explicit carnal desires. Being fully aware of this, the mortified man quickly swept the pair down and attempted to hide them from the perverse scrutiny of his maliciously-instinctive lover.

The fierce throbbing between Arthur's legs was rapidly lit aflame by the mouth that enveloped the tip of his length. It was chastely slow at first, tedious and obviously embarrassed. However, it wasn't that long until the pace became laced with so much intense fervour and wanting. Arthur voiced out low groans and quiet gasps, his hands tugging onto his pleasurer's hair in both greed and lust.

Antonio dug his fingers on his lover's lower back, crumpling the covering of an unbuttoned white shirt and gripping tightly onto taut skin. He did this to very best hold back from being too overwhelmed, to grasp tightly onto the handlebars of control and keep the pieces of his shattered pride from melting homogeneously into his feeling of arousal.

All was in vain, though. He wasn't any more resistant and strong enough to fight against whatever fate he was being lead to. Unable to restrain in any further extent, he tore his gripping hands away from Arthur's skin, placing one to pleasure his lover and the other, to pleasure himself.

What Arthur feels and sees in front of him puts his mind into a strange haze that can only be caused by being utterly intoxicated by lust. The sensation of a wet tongue that seeks his gratified moans, the gripping hand which was very generous in giving him pleasure, him being visually enticed by the whole salacious act was becoming all too much.

Antonio withdrew his mouth for a moment and looked at his lover's eyes expressively, still never stopping his hand from working up and down the entire shaft. Arthur intently steadied his eyes as if he was captured by that seductive face. He could not take it any longer. The dishevelled ash brown hair, those pair of expressive eyebrows, lush lashes, that handsome nose and that indecent mouth hungrily taking him again— all those brought out his deepest desires. That body too… he wanted to tear it naked push himself to it and make it his… only his.

"That's enough... that's enough. Pull yourself up closer to me." Arthur breathily said.

Still remaining in a kneeling position, the other pulled himself up. Arthur flung out his arms in a tight, fiery embrace and ravenously slathered kisses on the flexed neck which was freely accommodating him. His tongue applied drabbles of moisture into the sandalwood-fragrant skin, making Antonio twitch in alternate moans and pleasured gasps. His hands loosened up and his fingers fumbled on the knot of Antonio's white bathrobe. Arthur pulled a hairsbreadth from Antonio's skin, trailing his ticklish warm breath.

He pulled Antonio up, along with himself so that he could take his robe off. Arthur slipped his mouth again towards the other one's neck, slithering upward hotly towards the jaw corner and a little up into the flushed ear. The earlobe felt frigid compared to his tongue and he warmed them up by mildly fondling it. Then, He whispered gently with damp, humid words.

"Remember, you are mine. You will always be mine. I love you so, so much."

With those words he roughly shoved Antonio towards the bed and positioned himself on top of him. He immediately began consuming the naked man again, never allowing him to question his words and actions nor to push him away. He ravaged his own lips in every inch of the breathless man's tanned skin, his hands then groping whatever part that his mouth can't reach. Soon, he felt the man's arms tightly wrap itself around his body and heard him easing out quiet gasps. Those hot reactions made it clear to him that Antonio doesn't actually have any plans to object or resist him.

Arthur was absolutely pleased by that.

He pulled away from Antonio's body and hastily unfastened his cuff buttons. The white button-down shirt was impatiently shrugged off and finally tossed away. As Arthur reached for the nearby bottle of lube that he told Antonio to bring out after bath, he realised some mistake, smacking a firm palm on the forehead and came on hissing.

"Goddamn it! I forgot the sheaths."

Antonio blinked his lingering eyes away and sighed. He dragged the weight of his upper body sideways and reached for his wallet that he had left on the nightstand a while ago. He flipped the leather open and pulled out a small plastic packet from its hidden compartment.

"Here." He threw the packet onto Arthur.

The packet bounced off Arthur's naked chest and fell onto the scrunched duvet. The blond just expressionlessly stared at it and then at Antonio's face, making the confusion slowly emerge from the latter's intensely-green eyes. Arthur's own pale green pools subsequently narrowed unforgivingly. The brunet was nonetheless puzzled.

But before he could even voice out questions, Antonio was already flatly hushed down. It all went so quick the next thing he knew was the mild burning of his cheek as he crashed harshly onto the sheets. However, he still caught a glimpse of Arthur's leering before he was forcibly turned face down. He vainly tried to calculate what in hell had he possibly done to turn Arthur mad. At the very moment he squirmed and tried to turn his body up, a blocking arm and that tone of voice he detested came again.

"Oh no, no… Keep yourself down." Antonio couldn't put Arthur's face in a proper view, but still he could feel his malicious glares shoot at him. "Actually, I'm quite _impressed_… _really impressed_. Are you some kind of a _ready_ scout? Pray tell me, how many _condoms_ do you keep in your wallet?"

"Arthur, I do not like this conversation."

The sound of a ripped plastic-foil wrap came into Antonio's ear and then a quick response.

"No. You will do. You will like this conversation…"

He would then hear he bottle of lube click open, a squirt and soon, the faint squelching sound of it on latex.

"…I assure you. You will _absolutely_ like it… and perhaps, even more."

Arthur heaved the prone man's hips up and quickly and distastefully slathered lube onto his backside. Before Antonio could even voice out another complaint, a finger or two came prodding inside him. It immediately rummaged for his sweet spot. A telling-off he planned to shout at Arthur's face merely became a groan as the young man quickly spotted the right angle to hit his pleasant swelling.

It was utterly rude and invasive. He knew that Arthur was twisted but he never knew that he was twisted enough to push himself that way onto anyone. He was utterly manipulative, always choosing to ingratiate rather than to blatantly force the lock off into people. It was getting worse, he thought, irrevocably turning for the worse.

"Now I find it quite simple to understand… the reason why you are so aching to be away with yourself. _Apparently_, you do not have any plans to be_ alone_ at all."

As he spoke his taunting words, Arthur's fingers quickly withdrew but he yet doesn't have any plan to tone down his newfound approach in flaunting his aggressiveness. Soon, Antonio felt another part of Arthur's body breaking him apart intrusively. On the first repugnant slam that was given to him, Arthur bent over closer and asked him.

"So I ask… How many are you supposed to shag when I'm not around?"

Antonio gritted his teeth and flinched disgustingly at the wet touch that feathered down his shoulder. "Can you fucking hear yourself? Are you seriously asking me that question?!"

"Yes! And I expect an answer!"

"I have always kept condoms in my wallet!"

Arthur slammed more onto him, making the other's head hit one part of the bed's headboard. "That's not an actual answer to my question." He loudly gasped those words through the overpowering sensations that radiates from his lower half.

Even though how hard he tried not to make any noise that could possibly satisfy his aggressor, Antonio couldn't keep himself coherent as to stifle each lewdly erotic sound his body makes. Each slap on his buttocks eventually pushes pleased moans to pour from his mouth. He held onto the sheets as his heart writhed in pain because of the unspeakable shamefulness that he felt. His mind kept on denying it but his body was too honest to claim that it enjoys the distastefully tough pleasuring Arthur was giving him.

"I was right, aren't I?" Arthur formed the words under his laborious breath. "You absolutely like this."

"I'm not―" Antonio flashed those words quickly in stifling a generous moan. It was a pointless attempt and he completely knew that it won't work under Arthur's thorough scrutiny.

"Careful... Your lies are becoming a habit." Arthur teased.

Even with this bleak situation, he would still keep on trying all desperate attempts to deny Arthur the satisfaction of overwhelming him into surrender. He kept on erratically shifting his attention to the boiling rage that he keeps inside, for it may be the only way that he could escape from the filthy throbbing feeling between his legs. His mind repeatedly bellowed out Arthur's previous provocations into a wild inferno. _Lies, lies, lies…_ every single accusation made him recoil in contempt, making his fingers claw the sheets so tightly in anger.

Being distrusted… being accused, he all hated those feelings. He even hated those a lot more than being treated like a mere item to be consumed.

"I'm not lying about anything! If someone's lying here it's you!" He paused trying to think carefully, easing out a reluctant breath through clenched teeth. "So much for saying you love me."

"And I do..." Arthur weakened his thrusts into gentle but precise rhythms, putting his weight on his left side and moved Antonio's body into the more comfortable position. "I love you so much I would go through all the trouble of counting every mole in your body."

He then continued picking up pace, securing the other's swaying body close to him by clutching his right hand and arm onto the smooth shoulder. His mouth being free, he used it to toy with the man's nape and to put moist kisses down towards the trembling shoulder.

Antonio's hand flexed and gripped tighter on where it rests as he let out a soft moan and suck air in once more. He wanted to speak but every breath he inhaled seemed to be inadequate, making him silent beyond simple groans and gasps. His body seemed to be impatient and eager of the crazed sensations it receives and he could only narrow his eyes in disbelief on why he was feeling this way. Perhaps, it never even wavered behind his anger. Once that Arthur freed his shoulder to glide a hand down and repeatedly pleased his aching, all the remnants of his pride seeped under his skin like strange acid, making a shockwave both of shame and pleasure to emit in merciless surges.

_"J-joder―"_

Arthur soon withdrew and positioned himself to rest atop the other one's spent body. He took some more time for his own skin to enjoy the sensual heat and vigorous thumping coming from Antonio's own overdriven heart. His ferocious desire to finish was firmly kept at bay as he decided to deprive himself of a release. The idea of a delayed sexual gratification wholly excites him, making a self-contented smile verge upon his lips.

He lifted and fixed his glance on the face that exudes both blankness and tiredness and ran a clean palm down the other's sweat-beaded temple. "God, you're beautiful… even with that kind of expression." His finger then outlined Antonio's jaw, encouraging him to be attentive to his words and continued speaking. "So much that it quite worries me. If I don't keep you close enough, you might stray away."

Antonio strongly squirmed as if either telling Arthur to move away or not talk to him, perhaps both. However, his domineering lover never even thought of putting even a little bit of interest into what he was trying to convey. Arthur only continued to speak his mind, stubbornly not moving a single inch from where he was.

"Had someone told you this before? That _only fools trust somebody that is too beautiful, too fraudulently beautiful?_"

The man under him paid no heed and only rolled his eyes away, ultimately fed up of being easily coerced by such a venomous voice. Even so, Arthur still refused to withhold his words. His thoughts never wavered away from his confident plans. To him, it would always be best to keep someone tightly wrapped around his finger. Locked or chained even.

"I still quite remember to whom I heard those words years ago. She utterly bewitched me that night with her charm and I swear she's the prettiest girl in Barcelona that evening. Well, Antonio, I just wonder if you know her. She can't be that hard to spot for she is quite a head-turner… with her _Crème de menthe-_coloured eyes, blonde tresses and body that pretty much screams _childless_."

His voice was inaptly toned. So much that it doesn't sound like he's just telling any other trivial anecdotes, it seemed more like teasing in the sense of planning to inflict torment. After some short pause of recall, Arthur continued to speak.

"Although, there still was this one flaw I saw. The redness that outlines her eyes, aflame by hatred of her too much-indifferent husband… no, no… not indifferent… I bet her word's _wandering_… _wandering husband_. She says that she absolutely hates her husband's charm, though she was never aware that she had it in her too. The immodesty of such charm… oh how it could spark temptation and lead you to sin."

Antonio drew his anticipating eyes towards Arthur's face, clearly struck by some of the words he unwillingly heard. He expected to hear more but his vague-tongued, imperious lover didn't say anything further. The young man just gave small kisses on his lips and chin before gently pushing into him again.

"Arthur… what was that you were just telling me—" He asked as the opportunity arose.

"Hmm? Never mind that." Arthur exhaled as he got deeper. "You spoilt my mood, you're not listening anyway. Besides, it happened even before the two of us met so it isn't really important."

_It happened? What happened?_ Antonio turned quiet as he's being drowned by the questions he couldn't keep from flooding in.

Falsely taking his companion's silence as relaxation, Arthur continued into his own matters and intensified his thrusts, finally burrowing his face into the curve of the silenced man's neck as climax and pleasure shuddered out his entire being.

He remained inside Antonio's body, then not anymore moving but making his mouth work playful gentle bites on the patch of skin before him. He afterwards flashed a satisfied smile and gave a forehead kiss that speaks of itself as gratitude towards his man's good job in keeping him pleased. He lingered for a few more seconds before finally pulling out and reached for the hotel's compendium.

Three note papers were torn off from its leather sleeve and used as a wrapper for the disposed sheath. Arthur tossed the crumpled ball of paper at the rubbish bin under the desk before fishing his underwear and denims from the carpet. Half-dressed and done in, he disappeared into the bathroom in a manner that was almost entirely offhanded.

For most people, that kind of cold indifference would spark a little harmless insecurity towards a person who was promised to be loved. It really does when speaking of most people's circumstances. However, if speaking of situations when one was entirely exploited by the sheer selfish love that can't do anything but to solely use coercion or force, only the worst sparks in the manipulated one's mind.

Like the noisy gushing of water that perhaps coming from the bathroom sink, desperate thoughts flooded relentlessly inside Antonio's ears… repeating every word. It was as if he was hearing everything once again.

_"There was one flaw though, the redness that outlines her eyes, lit aflame by hatred of her much-indifferent husband… Oh no, not indifferent… it's wandering, she said, I remember… wandering husband."_

Wandering…

_"She says that she absolutely hates her husband's charm, though she was never aware that she had it in her too. The immodesty of such charm… oh how it could spark temptation and lead you to sin."_

Even though how much he tried to deny it, it still sounds the same. It was still the same very words. It sparks no harmless little fire and it brings out a blaze of too much recall as to purposely scorch and thaw out the cold veins under his skin.

He laid there. Very still under the lopsided folds of the duvet.

When does putting a face to somebody else's vague stories become that easy?

_"Antonio, I just wonder if you know her."_

_"She had it in her too… The immodesty of such charm… oh how it could spark temptation and lead you to sin."_

His present existence and surroundings freely melted into a surreal but unnoticed blur. He couldn't sense anything but the emerging painful doubts and the deep rejection of a betrayal that he wished to remain only as nothing else but something imagined. Arthur's voice was nearly put into a fade into the background until it managed to penetrate Antonio's thoughts. Just a moment ago, the latter almost didn't notice that the other one was already at his side, ending a phone call and talking adamant orders to him.

"…they were asking if you could join them for another year of campaign. It seems that they like your work so much. I said that we are considering it. You should do another year. This will greatly benefit your career―"

But before he could allow Arthur to finish dictating him further about his life, he cut him off.

"Tell me honestly, did you have a connection with my wife?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and wore an expression as if he hadn't heard the question clearly.

"Where did you dug out that idea from?" He then let out a small fallacious chuckle, intending to mislead the honest truth into a mere joke or mockery. "You have silly imaginations."

"Don't you dare taunt me!"

The situation suits its best, Arthur realised. He didn't actually have the plans of keeping secrets to himself beforehand. In fact, he didn't even considered what had happened years ago as a shameful secret. If Antonio were to ask him at some point, he would tell him straightforwardly― without any hesitation.

"Then fine! I'll tell you everything! So what if I got a taste of your wife before I tasted you?! Just be grateful I saved you from guilt! You got your reven―"

"You sick bastard!"

But before Arthur's mind could even expect it in the slightest, his back crashed on the edge of the bed, almost missing the mattress. A pair of eyes threw sharp glares on him as a pair of hands sharply held him down. Despite of that, he still foolishly expects nothing bad to happen.

Rage was evident to explode in Antonio's loud words and widened eyes. He was just only a notch from finally throwing his usual sensibilities away in exchange for lividness. That kind of anger wasn't obviously some petty flame to be played with. However his assertive lover never even tried to stifle a smug smile. It was as if putting more fuel into a raging fire was some sort of a very entertaining amusement.

"You got your revenge without even knowing it! Aren't you satisfied by that? I pursued you, cared for you, gave you everything!" Then a tiny but confident laugh escapes Arthur's throat "And… and that wife of yours? Have you even wondered what she does behind your back?"

Antonio's grip tightens itself around Arthur's windpipe, threatening to shut him up. However, it might have been best for him to withdraw both his hands to cover his ears. But it was too late. Words of betrayal soon flowed irrepressibly.

"She displays herself out alone, picks her fancied men while you're out there struggling to make ends meet as an underpaid model and then what? She puts her blame on you and left you like you were rubbish! The truth hurts but accept it!"

_"_…_F_-_fill __de puta__!"_

He balled his fist very tight and hit Arthur in the face. The blond lost his balance and eventually fell onto the carpeted floor. Arthur felt the injury afterwards with his hand and checked for blood. With a pained look, he watched Antonio cloth himself in a bathrobe and sat at the farthest edge away from him, his face clearly sunk onto his hands.

Antonio's thoughts were only dim and confused. He was overwhelmed by such strong emotions. He wanted to rip Arthur apart, hurt him so he'll know how exactly he was hurting. But he couldn't do more damage than he had done actually. He was betrayed, tricked, lost. Lost in anger, lost in shame and lost in this game that he gambled his pride with. There wasn't a single reason for him to go forward. His sad eyes gazed into the bright New York skyline. How beautifully serene it was behind all these chaos.

Arthur himself picked his white shirt and slipped into it. He sat again at the upholstered chair across the nightstand and the pile of magazines. No more in a casually neat way, he sank in his seat and fought the urge to grimace as he felt the injury on his lip once again. He laid his greyish-green eyes to the ash brow-haired young man whose mind only wished to escape the bitterness of reality.

Seconds, minutes passed and the wall of silence built itself again out of its past ruins. However, Arthur never allowed it to materialise once again. He stood up quickly and then picked the telephone at the nightstand.

"Antonio, it's getting late. You shouldn't pass the night without eating—"

"J-just fuck off!"

He only received a hiss. He closed his eyes. The line soon picked up.

"A serving of tea and an ice bag please. Thank you."

…

* * *

…

_I don't drink coffee I take tea my dear  
I like my toast done on one side  
And you can hear it in my accent when I talk  
I'm an Englishman in New York._

The almost inaudible music from the floor's lobby softly greets every passer-by a lively, jazzy good morning. There were no words to accentuate the said music but somehow, Alfred hums the familiar lyrics in his mind in an attempt to calm his tension in front of the elevator's shut doors. He occasionally curls his lips only to let out a slight cuss as the blinking floor number outrightly tells him that the elevator car is still stuck on lower floors.

At a distance one would not notice the gradual fraying of his nerves for he looked real sharp and crisp in a basic pressed white shirt and fitted dress trousers. He left behind his usual effortless whatever's-first-in-the-closet style earlier that morning, well, except for his favourite dark-brown satchel whose strap rested on nearly incongruous over his right shoulder, bag resting on his buttocks. On his arm then held a thick manila envelope labelled a bold _"A.F. Jones Portfolio - 11 x 7 Prints"._ Not so long after shifting his weight over and over, the elevator bell finally chimed.

He took a quick glance on his wristwatch.

_I will make it. I'm not gonna be late._

With brush of a nervous smile, those words repeated on his mind.

Earlier that morning, he had actually woke up with that great feeling that often goes with his usual optimistic nature. However, those pleasant thoughts never lasted when his phone rang with the employer he's applying for on the other side. The ad company called him first thing in the morning and rescheduled his interview to a sooner time. With no other choice but engage in a frantic haste, he jolted out and rushed, miraculously got himself smartly dressed despite all the mess and headed on.

However, it wasn't yet the end of that very _great_, bothersome morning. After scurrying out and taking some trial shots of interesting strangers he felt guilty to let go of, he realised that he left his envelope of prints back in his room. For that, he just wasted time going down the slow elevator just to go up again.

And then there's this reproduced requirements that magically went on missing in the worst possible time. To salvage the situation, he still has to go three floors above to the expensive but fast business centre to get those papers photocopied once again.

Crazy morning indeed… enough to easily make anyone else's mood turn very sour. But still, Alfred thinks it's better to just paint a hopeful smile across his face.

As he reached out to press the _'Close' _button on the elevator panel, he saw another person walking towards the steel doors so his quick instinct got him to press the _'Open'_ button instead. His eyes lay onto the blond young man in cashmere and a camel pea coat and to the sarcastic green pools that met his gaze for a few seconds. He would have shrugged the small encounter off if not for the glaring red bruise on the young man's lip corner.

His small pause allowed the blond young man to press the _'Upper Lobby' _button on the panel before Alfred could even reach and press for the floor on which he supposed to be heading to.

"Hey, excuse me, but I'm going up."

The young man just crossed his arms and leaned his back onto the rails. He will then let out an accent-laden, derisively toned reply.

"Oh I'm sorry… I didn't know. Well, I suppose you have to wait then."

Alfred puckered his eyebrows and swept his eyes over the passenger across him, holding them long enough to cause extremely annoyed words to snap back at him.

"Will you quit staring at me? It's quite unpleasant."

"Whoa... Hold on there. Me? unpleasant? Then what's that expression of yours called? Horrid?" Alfred said back like he was telling a simple joke, lightly laughing with no real offense intended. However, it wasn't interpreted as such by the foreign guy who only rolled his eyes in irritation.

The young man's sharp exhale afterwards almost sounded like a blunt _'shut up' _to Alfred.

"Yeah. Sorry… Just cheer up, dude. Mornings can be a bitch you know… but they're still too superb to be ruined."

_I'm an alien  
I'm a legal alien  
I'm an Englishman in New York._

Can't do anything but to better keep his words in, Alfred just carried on putting his stress off by softly whistling away his last song syndrome. Soon in otherwise silence, the car reached the upper lobby and a soft chime gave its way into the opening metal doors. The young foreign man drew a handkerchief to conceal his bruise as he walks out of the elevator, not at all forgetting to let out one last muttered comment.

"God, how bloody obnoxious."

Alfred almost didn't notice something had slipped off the young man's pocket as the hanky was pulled. And when he finally chose pick it up, it was too late– the elevator had its doors closed, already pulling up to the upper floors of the building.

That something was a key card sleeve. He unfolded its flaps away.

A card was present there and was also this scribbled note.

_Arthur,_

"_Trust, trust… how far can you go with just trust?"  
Well, it seemed that you can trust me after all, even a little.  
If I were you I didn't sleep in the whole night._

_Goodbye._

He checks underneath and it revealed something:

**Room: **1522  
**Guest: **A. Kirkland

...

-o**O**o-

* * *

**A/N:**

Do not store sheaths in wallets ever. That's an advice especially targeted towards men as they usually keep wallets on back trouser pockets. Antonio here is a model so he is supposed to be carrying a sling bag or a satchel whatnot with him to store some extra clothes, portfolios and perhaps, a wallet.

And wait, yes… Antonio's (Spain) wife is Belgium. Belgium fans, don't bash me yet. Stories are something that is developed and I completely have to avoid having infodumps so please give me a chance to tell the rest of Belgium's side on later chapters.

**Vocabulary:**

_Haute Horlogerie_: Expensive, designer watches manufacturers.  
_¡__Joder!_ (Spanish Interj.): "Fuck!", expression is also used in Catalunya according to a source.  
_Crème de Menthe_: A richly-green, mint-flavoured liqueur.  
_Fill de puta!_ (Catalan Profanity): Son of a bitch!

Not all sources are honest and some of my online friends might just be joking around with me so if anything's wrong here I beg you to please drop a note for me.

**Disclaimer and Links:**

I repeat… everything's not mine except for the plot of this fan fiction.

Hetalia: © Himaruya Hidekaz  
All Star: Performed by Smash Mouth ©2001 Interscope Records  
YT link: watch?v=L_jWHffIx5E  
Englishman in New York: Originally performed by Sting ©1987 A&M Records.  
YT link: watch?v=d27gTrPPAyk (Original Version); watch?v=53itehUPLGM (Very nice version!)

Thank you for reading!

I admit that writing this chapter became a little bit traumatic for me… But oh well, yay for my very first _lemon_! LOL.


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